New elegant extracts; a selection from the most eminent British poets and poetical translators, by R.A. Davenport, 4±Ç |
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... Death 88 89 M. G. Lewis . Bruce . 91 Hon . W. Spencer . 94 Langhorne . 95 • Dr. Beddoes . 97 ¡¤ Bowles . 102 Maria Riddell . 106 Dr. Sewell , 107 E. Smedley , Jun . 108 Boyse . 109 Bowles . 110 Earl of Carysfort . 114 Hon . W. R. Spencer ...
... Death 88 89 M. G. Lewis . Bruce . 91 Hon . W. Spencer . 94 Langhorne . 95 • Dr. Beddoes . 97 ¡¤ Bowles . 102 Maria Riddell . 106 Dr. Sewell , 107 E. Smedley , Jun . 108 Boyse . 109 Bowles . 110 Earl of Carysfort . 114 Hon . W. R. Spencer ...
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... Death of Mr. William Hervey Mus©¡us . Evening Address to a Nightingale On the Death of Mr. Aikman Verses in Memory of his Lady On his Mother . 1759 . Written at Amwell , in Hertfordshire A Father's extempore Consolation . • Milton . 193 ...
... Death of Mr. William Hervey Mus©¡us . Evening Address to a Nightingale On the Death of Mr. Aikman Verses in Memory of his Lady On his Mother . 1759 . Written at Amwell , in Hertfordshire A Father's extempore Consolation . • Milton . 193 ...
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... Death woos all powerful : ere he parts the clue , Once more thy Laura bids her love adieu : Bids health and affluence every bliss afford ; Bids thee be loved , be happy , and adored ; In ease , in mirth glide each glad hour away : No ...
... Death woos all powerful : ere he parts the clue , Once more thy Laura bids her love adieu : Bids health and affluence every bliss afford ; Bids thee be loved , be happy , and adored ; In ease , in mirth glide each glad hour away : No ...
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... Death ! thy work com- And give my soul to gain her last retreat . Such as before the birth of nature sway'd , Ere springing light the first great word obey'd , Let silence reign- -come , fate , exert thy might , And darkness wrap me in ...
... Death ! thy work com- And give my soul to gain her last retreat . Such as before the birth of nature sway'd , Ere springing light the first great word obey'd , Let silence reign- -come , fate , exert thy might , And darkness wrap me in ...
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... Death's decisive stroke must end At once the Lover and the Friend . EDWARD MOORE . MAIA'S BIER . HOPELESS , bereft of every joy That life can give , or love destroy , No opiate now can lull to rest , But cold despondence chills my ...
... Death's decisive stroke must end At once the Lover and the Friend . EDWARD MOORE . MAIA'S BIER . HOPELESS , bereft of every joy That life can give , or love destroy , No opiate now can lull to rest , But cold despondence chills my ...
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adieu beams beauty beguile beneath bless bless'd bliss bloom bosom cold bower breast breath bright CHARLOTTE SMITH charm cheek cheer dark dear death despair dream e'er ELEGY eyes fade fair Fair city Fancy farewell fate feel flame flowers fond gale gay nature gentle gloom glow grace grave grief grove hast hear heart Heaven honours hope HOTWELLS hour hour of victory life's lips lonely LORD BYRON love restore love's Lover Lycidas lyre Maid with bosom mind Monody morn mourn Muse Naiad ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pangs pass'd peace pity pride rapture rill rise round scenes scorn shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song soothe sorrows soul spring strain stream sweet tear tempest tender thee thine thou thought tomb Twas vale virtue voice wake wandering wave weep wild winds youth
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170 ÆäÀÌÁö - Would'st softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
193 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ay me, I fondly dream, Had ye been there! — for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
172 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
195 ÆäÀÌÁö - Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths!
198 ÆäÀÌÁö - Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
197 ÆäÀÌÁö - Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
197 ÆäÀÌÁö - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
193 ÆäÀÌÁö - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, With wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes, mourn. The Willows, and the Hazel Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays.
170 ÆäÀÌÁö - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
126 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.